“Nothing,” stammered Stephen.
“That’s a queer thing to howl at. If you were weeping because you hadn’t made my tea, I could understand it. Come along, I’ll show you how to do it this time, young greenhorn.”
Stephen accompanied him mechanically, and was ushered into the study on the other side of the door with the kicks to that in which he had been so grievously wronged.
He watched Loman prepare the meal, and was then allowed to depart, with orders to be in the way, in case he should be wanted.
Poor Stephen! Things were going from bad to worse, and life was already a burden to him. And besides—that exam paper! It now suddenly dawned upon him. Here it was nearly seven o’clock, and by ten to-morrow he was to deliver it up to Dr Senior!
How ever was he to get through it? He darted off to Oliver’s study. It was empty, and he sat down, and drawing out the paper, made a dash at the first question.
The answer wouldn’t come! Parse “Oh, ah!”
“Oh” is an interjection agreeing with “ah.”
“Ah” is an interjection agreeing with “oh.” It wouldn’t do. He must try again.
“Why,” cried the voice of Wraysford, half an hour later, “here’s a picture of industry for you, Greenfield. That young brother of yours is beginning well!”